


Save This Dance

by cirnelle



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Short fic + photomanip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirnelle/pseuds/cirnelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One lazy Sunday afternoon a couple of months after he and Illya became lovers, Napoleon sets up his camera and, without telling Illya, takes a photograph of himself and Illya slow dancing in his living room...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save This Dance

 

 

  
  


 

 

One lazy Sunday afternoon a couple of months after he and Illya became lovers, Napoleon is lounging on the long couch in his apartment, bare feet up on the coffee table, one hand tucked behind his head and the other draped over Illya's shoulders. Illya, curled up beside him, has his nose in a thick book. Jazz plays softly on the radio.

Spotting his camera sitting on the mantelpiece across the room, Napoleon hums thoughtfully to himself. He gets up off the couch, crosses the room and picks up his camera, fiddling with the settings. Illya looks up at the loss of Napoleon's arm around his shoulders, but when he sees his partner absorbed in his precious camera, he loses interest and sticks his nose back in his book.

Napoleon, meanwhile, has gotten the camera settings adjusted to his liking, and, crossing the living room, places the camera on the shelf behind the sofa, pointing the lens at the center of the living room. Doubling back around the couch, he holds out his hand to Illya. "Dance with me?"

Illya glances up from his book to shoot Napoleon an incredulous look.

"Please?" Napoleon cajoles. "I don't get to dance with you in public. Let me have _one_ dance with the only person I really want to dance with."

"When you put it that way," replies Illya with a faint smile, "I cannot say no, can I?" He marks his place in his book carefully with a slip of paper, then gets up, putting the book on the end table.

Napoleon wraps his arms around his partner, nosing at soft blond hair as they sway gently to the music, Illya's head resting on his shoulder. Behind him, there's a soft click and whirr as the camera's timer finishes counting down and the camera snaps a picture.

In his arms, Illya starts and draws back, looking around. "What was that?" He spots the camera on the shelf, and turns to stare at Napoleon.

Illya is _furious_ with him for taking the photo, and, Napoleon has to admit, for good reason – this could be _spectacular_ blackmail material for anyone who gets their hands on it. Just imagining T.H.R.U.S.H.'s reaction, should they ever (God forbid!) come across it, makes him cringe. On hindsight, this wasn't one of his better ideas...but being with Illya seems to make him want to do crazy things, sometimes.

He develops the photo at home in his bathroom (Illya grumbles about all the paraphernalia cluttering up the bathroom, but his eyes soften when he sees the developed photo). Taking the negative out to the patio and putting it in an ashtray, Napoleon watches as Illya strikes a match and carefully sets the negative alight.

The next day, sealing the photo in a large unmarked envelope, Napoleon brings it to his bank and has it locked away in a safety deposit box.

 

***

 

Years pass, and Napoleon and Illya both retire from being field agents, head separate divisions at U.N.C.L.E. for some time, then, eventually, retire from U.N.C.L.E. entirely. The world has changed drastically since they were young men, and they no longer need to keep their relationship a secret. Illya moved in with Napoleon some years back; Napoleon's apartment now has large stacks of Illya's books on the tables and a box of Illya's jazz records under the bed. Illya's clothes take up about a third of his closet space (he still owns significantly more items of clothing than Illya), and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Illya is busily sorting through some old books on a wintry afternoon, sitting on the carpeted living room floor with piles of books around him, when the apartment door opens and Napoleon comes in, holding a large envelope and brushing a few stray flakes of snow off his coat.

Napoleon takes his coat off, hangs it on the coat hook, then carefully slits the envelope open and takes out a single stiff sheet of paper.

“Remember this?” he asks, handing it to Illya.

With a puzzled glance, Illya gets to his feet and takes the piece of paper. It turns out to be a photo --  _that_ photo from many years ago. It's now yellowed with age, but the picture is still sharp and clear. He hadn’t realized that Napoleon had kept it all these years. Illya huffs out an exasperated breath and grumbles about Napoleon being overly sentimental, but his gaze, when he looks at Napoleon, is fond.

“Dance with me?” asks Napoleon, holding his arms out. Illya carefully puts the photo on the table and, smiling, steps into the circle of his arms.

 

 

\- End -

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sources for photo manip: [1](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-t1lHMguC5dg%2FT9_T3ZZguNI%2FAAAAAAAAAIc%2FmfqlDP0O_8k%2Fs640%2Ftumblr_m5td14hmVw1qburkyo1_500.png&t=MGE1MDJhYmZlNDAyOTEwM2M0ZTBhNDczZWJlZTc1ODMyMGI2NWMwYSxaQkpBOWtSag%3D%3D) [2](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fedc.h-cdn.co%2Fassets%2Fcm%2F15%2F04%2F980x775%2F54bfcaecca74f_-_193.jpg&t=ZWIyYmQ2ZDhmZGJjYTY2ZmJjZWNlOWUxZmFlZDZkMzc3NWYzOTZkYyxaQkpBOWtSag%3D%3D) [3 ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.paradeofhomes.org%2Fsites%2Fparadeofhomes.org%2Ffiles%2Fstyles%2Flarge%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fblogentry%2F10747-14079-5-mid-century-modern-living-rooms-admire.png%3Fitok%3DQxp85ecz&t=M2JkZjU0MWE1NjZjYjI3YzdmYjE0NTk0MmQ5Nzc1MTM5MDc1ZWNmMyxaQkpBOWtSag%3D%3D)


End file.
